You Reap What You Sow
by Punster-Zero
Summary: When John ‘Reaper’ Grimm found himself roped into another shady UAC plot, his gut was telling him he was in for a world of trouble. But not even he knew the Hell he had let himself in for.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer : **

I do not own any of the characters portrayed within, only the plot (bunny) is mine.

**Summary : **

When John 'Reaper' Grimm found himself roped into another shady UAC plot, his gut was telling him he was in for a world of trouble. But not even he knew the Hell he had let himself in for.

**Spoilers : **

Set during the end of season seven of 'Buffy', and after the film 'Doom'; thus huge spoilers for both.

* * *

**You Reap What You Sow**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

_In the distant reaches of time, in a universe much like our own..._

Boredom. Eternal boredom.

The watcher sighed as it pondered on what to do next. The eternal ennui that plagued it was, in truth, the primary reason for more actions than even the watcher had realised. For now, all that was of concern was that of all the many and varied plans held against the future, none would prove fruitful any time soon. Or even in the next millennium. So the boredom was truly profound.

Then it happened.

A presence brushed against the watcher's attention. A small and insignificant mind, yes, but one that should have not have been there. Intrigued, reaching out with the most delicate and ephemeral of its senses, with great surprise it found a gap where no gap should be. A... weakening… in the fabric of reality, similar to the one the watcher used to access its favourite playground, yet different. Very different. On the other side lay a new realm, a realm unheard of and untouched by those it called its peers, few though they were. A realm that, until now, had been beyond even the watcher's powerful perceptions. A pristine realm.

What fun.

Shaking off irrelevant musings, with a vengeance it set to absorb as much information as possible, uncoiling intangible mental tendrils into the mind that had awoken its interest. Tasting the flavour it encountered, the watcher was shocked to recognise the mind as belonging to a human; but what a human! He was like none it'd touched before. _This_ mind was organised and alert, thoughts running like streams of light through its consciousness - nothing like the apelike creatures that currently inhabited its playground.

Realising the possibilities suddenly within its grasp, it probed gently through the human's memories searching out and absorbing the knowledge the human had gleaned through decades of hard work, glorying in the science that it now had access to. Oh, the plots within plots it could create via this puny mind! Its interest sharpened with the knowledge that for this, the consequences of breaking the Law would be worth the risk.

All in all, it was well pleased.

Pulling back for a moment, allowing itself to fully absorb and comprehend the strange new knowledge just gained, the germ of a truly evil idea formed in its demented psyche. Pawn or not, for this the human must be willing... Choice made, it set to the task. The single spike of the focussed probe thrust deep into the human's subconscious, carefully placing a single impulse where it would do the most harm.

That accomplished, it drew back, smirking darkly. Now came the wait and, though such patience was tiresome, there would be only a few short years before the fun could really begin.

Work complete, the ancient one looked upon the shadow of its labours, and saw that it was good.

All in all, the First was pleased.

* * *

Sighing, the First tapped ethereal fingers on the arm of the conjured throne. Why did humans consider these things so important? Personally she found them irritating and uncomfortable; and for an entity that could take almost any form, that was saying something. 

Finally it was time.

The human was about to breach the barrier between their realities and find himself before his soon to be god. Eagerly awaited though her new pet's arrival was, the First was profoundly unwilling to show anything so crass as excitement, especially in front of a lower being. This did not stop the feelings though.

Suddenly the air was filled with ozone, and an odd heaviness filled the cavern. Barely catching herself from sitting forward in anticipation, the First watched with interest as a bizarre metal device melted into existence, seeming-liquid coalescing out of nothingness. In defiance of gravity, it swirled and grew around the apex of the device for a moment before shooting up into the air and hovering about four feet off the ground. If the First had not witnessed such an event in the mind of her soon to be subject, she might have been shocked. Instead, she knew the time was nigh.

He was about to arrive.

The liquid suddenly billowed, size increasing exponentially as it surged and leapt until, with a flash of light, a man tumbled out of it and slammed into the ground. With a burst of mischief the First cloaked her form, and waited to see the reaction of her latest acquisition while he thought himself alone. No matter that soon, the only thought running through his head would be how to please his master.

If not for the manner of his arrival, at first glance there would have been nothing exceptional about him. It would have taken more than a second glance to see the intensity that gave presence to an apparently ordinary frame. And the fanaticism that burnt within.

Shaking his head, the man raised his eyes and raked them swiftly over the chamber's empty walls, before letting his gaze come to rest on the seemingly empty throne. Puzzlement crinkling the corners of his eyes, he slowly gained his feet and warily moved closer. Just before he reached it, there was a swirl of inky smoke and out of the darkness stepped…Her.

She wore human form, but it was careless convenience. He could feel what she was. He could see what she was. Eyes…

Eyes are the windows to the soul.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. Belated survival instinct clawed at him, and surreptitiously backed him towards the escape of his Ark; alas it was not to be. A dark smile, a negligent gesture, and many fates were sealed.

Too late.

"Ah, thanks to you your race will feel death and destruction beyond their wildest nightmares. You have no idea of the horrors your actions have released."

She paused to savour the fear that filled him, then continued.

"But you will."

Without warning, the power she had been gathering unnoticed suddenly poured through her and into his mortal frame, inundating him with the blackest of magics, distorting the very nature of his being.

"_Mine_."

Instantly the impulse so skilfully buried in his mind all those years ago, the obsession that had driven him beyond all reason, to break the barrier between them, swarmed up and swallowed him. Falling to the ground, convulsing wildly, he twitched and trembled as his very psyche was rewritten to conform to her goals.

Within moments it was all over. The old personality was destroyed in the flames of birth, and all that remained was her creation.

"Goddess, command me."

Good. Not only had the possession worked flawlessly, but the knowledge so vital to the plan was still intact in what was left of his brain. Revelling in triumph, the First reluctantly pulled her attention back to the slave kneeling before her and began his instruction.

This was going to be so much fun.

* * *

It had worked even better than the First had planned. Using the scientist's knowledge, and a smattering of her darkness, her pet had created a serum that would seemingly give all the humans in his reality superhuman abilities and powers. Increased strength, speed and stamina. Increased mental acuity. Enhanced healing abilities. Extended lifespan. Everything that the hearts of petty mortals could possibly desire or want. 

However, this was only true for some of the race. For the rest, those with the genetic marker for insanity, the marker for evil, it would cause them to mutate and change into horrific monsters and go on bloody rampages to slaughter all those who were not like them, and to turn with an infected bite those who could be.

The plan had gone off without a hitch.

Her puppet had spread the discovery of the serum, hyping it as a wonderful thing to extend and improve lives. No matter what tests were run on the serum they had all come back saying the same thing, that it was safe to use on humans and caused no adverse effects.

And so they injected themselves, and the fun truly began. With the secret agenda she had given her minion, and the knowledge of the outcome, he had taken special care to track down those who had worked with the Ark, finding those who would turn, and neutralising those few who would not. There was no one left to prevent him from lifting the safety protocols which should have protected the Ark from non-human use.

In essence, no matter where they ran, the children of the First could follow. And with the infusion of darkness, the First had a mental connection to all the changed; though she was still in her own dimension, her mind was following the mayhem they were causing. All the mayhem that they were all causing, at the same time.

The feel had been intoxicating, almost as good as the primordial wars between the Old Ones, so long ago.

Death and corruption scythed through the human ranks at a horrendous rate, but even as they spiralled into the abyss there were small flickers of hope and defiance. Not all the changed fell to evil. Contrary to the First's desires, some souls were too bright for the First's darkness to overpower them. Outnumbered hundreds, perhaps thousands to one, those few fought back. They fought back with a strength, with a speed, with a skill, that no human had ever reached before.

It was almost enough.

But not quite.

One by one she watched them fall, those last champions of humanity, swallowed by the endless horde.

The universe was hers.

The human race was almost completely annihilated, her pets had fulfilled their purpose, and were down to cleaning out the last few pockets of resistance amongst the far-flung Ark-worlds. It had done no good to seal themselves behind the Arks, shutting them down completely, for the infection had travelled with them – all their efforts only succeeded in delaying the inevitable.

And so the slaughter continued.

Only one world amongst many had escaped her minion's depredations. Knowing there was nothing she could do about it, she brushed aside her annoyance. Compared to the success of her plan, one anomaly was an insignificance.

* * *

It was over. The fighting was done, the scattered worlds dead or turned, the army of the First had won. Only that one Ark was left, completely inaccessible – only those humans were safe. But in their fear, they had dared not allow any serum childe, changed or not, access to this last sanctuary. The risk was just too great. On this world, the First had no foothold. But nor were there those who would have been able to protect it. 

Now her forces, though successful, were scattered, and it was time to bring them to heel. The First called them, summoned back her darkness within their beings, commanding them to come. Across the vast distances, they heard her call, and obeyed. One by one, they gathered at the First's Ark. The one Ark that broke the laws of reality.

One by one they passed through it. They did not need to know that for them time would be suspended, that they were merely pawns in an aeons old plan.

Their numbers so great, it took days, weeks, months for them to all pass through.

Eventually the endless line was finished, almost. There was but one left. This one, however, was different. In this one's eyes shone the light of intelligence, twisted as it was. This was her general, the one she had blessed with her touch. Her right hand.

Alone among the host, he was untouched by the serum. Warped by powers so black, he wore his humanity as a disguise, masking the truth that lay within. He belonged to the First - body, heart and soul.

The First was filled with exultation. With this new army, unknown to her foes, the chances of her failing were remote. All she need do now was make use of her ace in the hell…

* * *

_Now…_

Ex-Corporal John Grimm sat in a hard metal chair, in front of a small functional table, in a featureless room. Though it had been three years since he and his sister had escaped the hell that had been Olduvai, he had figured it would be only a matter of time before the UAC came for him. The only thing that surprised him was that it took them this long.

Lost in his musings, he nonetheless was well aware when footsteps approached the door from the outside. Hiding his smirk behind a façade of disinterest, he waited for the barrage to begin. He wasn't disappointed.

First came the threats against his sister, for the loss of the scientific data she had been ordered to retrieve but had instead destroyed. They had both known the consequences - with all the rules that UAC had been willing to break to run such tests, the loss of the data would be unacceptable. However, they both, John and Sam, had agreed that destroying it was far safer than allowing the knowledge on how to create chromosome twenty-four to be released on Earth.

So, though hearing the threats was unpleasant, they were not themselves unexpected. Letting the drama pass him by, John was grimly amused that they didn't actually know he had taken the serum – but they were suspicious about how he had managed to get both his sister and himself out with only minor wounds. In fact, while Sam had suffered a broken leg and multiple contusions, he had been completely unmarked when he reached the surface - despite the damage he had taken…

His ex-superiors might not know exactly what had gone down on the other side of the Ark, but they knew enough. No one walked unscathed out of the kind of bloodbath that could take down a UAC Complex and an entire squad of RRTS. Even Reaper, reputation notwithstanding, was not that good. Or at least, he hadn't been…

So, either he was lying, or something had gone live that they really, really wanted a piece of.

They had enough information to wonder whether the man known as Reaper was any longer quite as human as he might appear. So, he was more than slightly surprised that they didn't arrest him on the spot.

Not that he would have let them, but the thought of having to kill his own had left a bad taste in his mouth.

Hopefully they wouldn't attempt to gain the answers now, for if they did they would truly discover how changed he was.

It was just lucky that the round from Sarge's BFG had continued to melt through the wall and into the computer mainframe behind it. The retrievable information had been fragmented at best, sufficiently so that there was no evidence of him being injected.

Not realising the range of his hearing, two technicians complaining about it after his initial debrief had clued him in to the situation. At that dark time, it had been a ray of sunshine he had gladly passed on to his sister.

Finally, seeing as their threats had no effect, the interrogators glanced at each other, smirks on their faces. John felt a warning tingle in the back of his mind. After three years of training himself in his new abilities, when his instincts warned him of danger they were always right. He shifted his position slightly, ready to fight his way out if necessary.

But as they laid out the cold, hard facts, he knew that escape was no longer an option. Not for him, and not for Sam.

They knew.

It seemed that they had been working hard on deciphering the data, fragmented as it was, this entire time, and had finally managed to reconstruct some of the video footage. It was partial at best - but it showed the worst possible information.

He knew because as their trump card they played it for him. He watched, with a leaden feeling growing in the pit of his stomach, he and Sarge faced off in the Ark embarkation room, as they tossed each other around like they weighed nothing, as they effortlessly bent metal cables into pretzels.

Most importantly, he watched as he threw Sarge through the Ark, followed by an ST grenade, killing the man and sealing Olduvai forever. For the first time he saw the look of surprise on the face of his younger self, as he gazed in shock at the hand that had been shorn in two, and found it now whole.

He didn't need to see their faces to recognise their satisfaction. They had him.

Closing his eyes, he focussed his mind in the way he had discovered.

'_Sam? We have a problem.'

* * *

_

**A/N : **

I know I know, evil place to stop it, but it worked for me. Sorry.

The idea for this came about when I went hunting for good Buffy/Doom(film) fanfiction, and couldn't find any. I think I have a good thing going here, and I hope you enjoyed it.

This story had been longer, but some ruthless editing on my part dropped about six hundred words. That hurt me more than you can imagine.

This chapter _may _change in the future, depending on how the story evolves. I will give warnings if it does.

Rating for possible later content.

Though reviews are not needed, they are always welcome and much appreciated. Even flames are welcome, as long as they are constructive.

**Punster-Zero**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer :  
**See Prologue for specifics. In general, not mine. Darn it.

**xXx**

**Chapter 1**

**xXx**

John was never sure when it first happened, when the thoughts and memories flitting through his head were not his own but his sister's. He only became truly aware of it when Sam was attacked.

**xXx**

The veritable shitstorm of controversy after the debacle on Olduvai, with the horrific loss of life as well as the loss of so much scientific data had created such a huge outcry of condemnation against all involved had made it only sensible for the siblings to protect themselves from possible recriminations.

They had handed in their resignations on the same day.

The sooner they were gone, the lower the chance of tests being run that would reveal John's secret. It might have been only one of a number of reasons, but it definitely topped the list.

However, though they had left the company, they soon found that it did not except them from the media circus. Instead it seemed to have ignited a fire under certain journalistic hides as to why they had been so willing to leave so soon after the mission, particularly a mission that had gone so tragically wrong.

Vulture-like, the reporters were unwilling to leave them alone even knowing the circumstances of their suffering. He had after all lost his entire team, as had she. Men he had trained with, fought with, bonded with. People as close as family. Her loss had been as great, and as a civilian scientist even more shocking. As a researcher on a long-term project, she had lived with them not just worked besides them. She had known wives and husbands and had watched their children when they asked.

All dead now, their deaths so classified not even next-of-kin knew the details.

The press thought they had a right to know, never mind that if the story was to ever get out both John and Sam would be made to disappear so completely no-one would ever find the bodies.

The attention had got so bad that they found themselves forced to move from fleabag motel to fleabag motel, trying to keep under the radar, never able to stay in one place long enough to plan further ahead than their next move.

Eventually the media interest waned, and they moved onto the next story – one with more cooperative subjects – leaving the Grimm's to breathe sighs of relief, now free to work out what to do next. The going was hard, but though they hadn't made any concrete decisions they had progressed somewhat, if with a few hiccups.

Each was used to being in charge, and neither was willing to back down when they knew they were right – especially not to a sibling. It was perhaps unsurprising that at times the brainstorming sessions grew… heated. However both of them found the experience enjoyable, as it brought back memories of when they were young and had shared such… spirited arguments.

Still, sometimes they found themselves just unable to agree on a point in question, and tempers would flare and tension would rise. It was at times like this that the only way they could calm themselves was to separate and blow off some steam – each in their own way.

Sam's method was work. Specifically, she focussed on trying to replicate the work from Olduvai. Though she hadn't been involved in the more shady side of it, notably the experiments controlled by the late Dr Carmack, she had been connected to the project and had seen some of the data. And considering her brother was infected by an unknown drug of alien origin that turned all but him into ravening beasts… she had a deepset desire to make sure nothing bad came of it for her brother.

On the other hand, John tended to lean towards going for long walks through the surrounding areas, where groups of bikers hung out. The kind of people who liked to relieve a man of his valuables, people who were especially attracted to men who walked their streets alone.

All in all, John found his walks very therapeutic.

This sequence of events happened with such regularity that soon it became a comforting routine. Plot, scheme, disagree, fight, then cool off. Ad infinitum.

Unfortunately they didn't notice that letting such a routine form had gradually worn down their guard – an unwise move in such neighbourhoods.

It was only a matter of time before the odds caught up with them.

John was out prowling, looking for some hoodlums to 'help' him relieve his stress, when a spike of fear shot through him. He stopped dead in his tracks, and let his senses sweep his surroundings. No threats. Trying to understand why his senses were seemingly going haywire, he closed his eyes and concentrated, only to suddenly find himself gazing at a very familiar hotel room.

Instantly his eyes snapped open, to see – nothing, just the street. The odd fear still gnawing on the edges of his self-control, he tentatively refocused on the area of his mind where the feelings were centred, and once again found himself looking in on the room he had left earlier that evening.

This time however he did not panic or overreact, he simply pushed back his emotions and watched what was occurring before him.

A stranger was pawing through the papers he and his sister had left on the small table in their room, tossing them about haphazardly, obviously looking for money or valuables. John tried to see where his sister was, but couldn't see her anywhere. It came as a complete shock when the perspective suddenly shifted to focus on the door, swinging loosely on its hinges. Not a shock to have the point of view move without his command, but because as it had moved, it had briefly passed over a small mirror that was hanging on the wall.

In that moment he had seen his sister bound to a chair with a gag in her mouth and a bruise forming on her cheek, staring back at him.

So surprised was he that the connection was broken yet again. He didn't have to understand to believe. Sam was in danger. He was needed.

Any observer would have been shocked beyond belief to see his reaction. John spun in place, and shot into a sprint back the way he had come. Fight, flight and fury worked together to push him far beyond normal human limits, which caused him to move at speeds far exceeding what should have been possible. Had he known it, even beyond what his enhanced metabolism allowed.

John was aware of none of this, using every skill and ability he possessed to reach his sister before something worse happened. He was highly surprised to find himself suddenly standing outside the door to their room a bare few minutes after the vision had struck – but surprise was irrelevant. Sam came first.

Listening intently, the sounds ransacking were clearly audible, as was the harsh breathing of the intruder and the ragged sounds from his sister. Astonished, he realised he could even hear the sound of his sister's heart pounding from the adrenalin flooding her system.

The military had trained him in the dissociation necessary to mission focus, and resolutely John pushed all his fears and worries to the back of his mind. Leaving only the soldier, Reaper, and the shadows that were his natural habitat.

Quietly he glided through the door, glad of the oiled hinges, and paused as he entered the room proper. No cry of alarm. His entry had gone unnoticed.

Moving silently to the bed, ignoring the crunches coming from the bathroom where the thief was evidently investigating the medical cabinet, he untied Sam and motioned to the door. Seeing her safely gone, he turned his attention to her attacker.

Time to teach a lesson.

**xXx**

Stretching his back, John wearily walked out of the police station. It seemed the law's definition of necessary force did not agree with his. The bloody ruin he had left of the man's face and body, had taken an inordinate amount of time to explain to the officers' satisfaction.

Not having full control over his newfound strength, he had almost killed the man. He was lucky that the man had been so strung out on various drugs that the police hadn't believed him when he woke up and described how John had thrown him around the room like a rag doll.

Unfortunately, in the aftermath of his reaction the media had picked up the story and had started to dig into his circumstances. It was only a matter of time until he was recognised. So now they needed to move on again.

But first he was going to gave to do something highly uncomfortable, and downright humiliating. He was going to have to have a heart-to-heart with his sister, and somehow have to justify why the man was still in the hospital while most of his teeth were in an evidence bag. This was one conversation he was not looking forward to.

Glancing around he spotted Sam leaning against the car, with an intransigent expression on her face. He could feel the heat of her glare from twenty feet away. Slowly moving towards her, figurative tail between his legs, he could see her foot beginning to tap impatiently.

As he reached her side, Sam straightened and an expression of concern crossed her face. "John? Are you alright?"

He had to fight back a grin. She was the one who'd been in danger, yet she was worried about him – the marine. "Yeah Sam, I'm fine. Are you okay? I'm sorry it took me so long to get to you."

As he spoke his eyes began to shine suspiciously, and his gaze was abstract as he pictured the scene he might have walked in on.

"I almost failed you. I don't know what I would have done if..."

"John."

He brought his attention back to her, and found himself riveted by her gaze.

"John, nothing happened. He'd only been there a few minutes when you returned. You saved me. I survived. Other than a few bruises I'm fine.

"But John… did you have to hurt him that badly?"

Feeling a flush crawl up his neck, he battled it to no avail. He'd walked through hell with his team, literally, and nothing had fazed him. Yet a single hint of that tone had him acting like a naughty schoolboy. It just wasn't fair.

Stammering slightly, and hating himself for it, he tried to explain away his actions. "Sam, you're all I have left. When I knew you were in trouble, I didn't think – I just reacted. I'm sorry." Seeing her narrowed eyes, he hoped she would let it go at that, and was glad when she did. But then she started to probe his reasons for his hasty return, forcing him to describe the strange occurrence.

It was difficult for John to talk about how it had felt, how that first jolt of fear had struck through him, but he knew she needed to hear it all if either of them were to make sense of what was happening to them. He had felt what she felt, seen through her eyes – and, he was startled to find, she had felt it too, or at least felt _something_, when he did so.

He had been assuming that it was just another side-effect of the boost, but was it something that both of them could learn to do? That would open up a whole range of possibilities…

Discovering that they could share each others sight sometimes, made Sam very excited. She had demanded that they study and experiment this new ability. John found himself roped into it as an unwilling subject, the decision removed completely from his control.

The bizarre feeling of his sister looking through his eyes had been very unsettling at first. She naturally, thought his reactions highly amusing.

Over time they worked out that strong emotion triggered the episodes, but they were uncontrollable and even painful if they weren't careful. It took months for them to fine-tune the ability to the point where it could be summoned at will. Once that stage had been reached, the learning curve grew far less steep and John was able to expand his knowledge of what he could do at an almost exponential rate.

By the time the two agents pulled him away to the interview, he and Sam were able to keep the link open almost indefinitely, and distance didn't affect it at all. That being so, when he sent, _'Sam? We have a problem,' _along with everything he knew about the situation – the message was received loud and clear.

Sam's reaction was a start of horror, before the analytical part of her began to pick it apart to see all the possible ramifications. She quickly came to the obvious conclusion.

'_John, do whatever they want. Play along with them, toe the line. Don't cross them, don't let them think you're unusable. Be the dutiful soldier, and let me work on a solution from my end._

'_And John? Be careful._'

Determined as he was not to be turned into a puppet, John nevertheless understood the implicit threat indicated by their possession of the footage. No-one should ever have seen that. Even for John, watching the confrontation between him and Sarge had been highly disturbing – people were just not meant to be able to move like that.

There was nothing he wanted to do less than to go back to work for them, but seeing the knowing grins – he knew he had no choice. This was a battle he could not win. Better to wait for the opportune moment. Letting his shoulders slump in a posture of defeat he nodded his acquiescence.

"So what exactly am I signing up for this time?"

**xXx**

Standing in the embarkation room, John felt a chill run up his spine. The Ark, a device of alien origin. And the catalyst that had already led to the deaths of over a hundred people. Instead of shutting it down, the UAC was not only keeping it running but intensifying their research.

Apparently the possible military applications far outweighed the inherent dangers.

With perfect hindsight, he should have destroyed the Ark on Earth as well, but at the time it had not seemed important. After all, he had destroyed the doorway to Olduvai. He just hadn't thought to imagine quite what else might be on the other side.

So now here he was, being sent on another mission to another world where'd they'd lost contact with a team of scientists. Sure, there were more of them this time. And not just a single squad but an entire platoon – forty five highly trained professionals, state-of-the-art weaponry, the best-of-the-best.

He could just tell that this was going to end badly.

Knossos.

John shivered. Sam had gone quiet when she first heard the name of the new Ark's location.

It was nothing like Mars. For a start, they'd had been unable to calculate where it was. In fact, the physicists insisted it wasn't actually there to all. The region of space was devoid of detectable matter.

John felt this should have been a sign of things to come.

However, what made it too intriguing for the scientists to pass up, was that unlike every other exit point it had a second Ark. And nobody could tell where it went.

The research team had been waiting excitedly for the first transmission from their probe on the other side, but nothing had been heard from them since. Their report was overdue and people were getting concerned. About the data.

Which was where John and the platoon came in.

Feeling a prod on his back, he was woken from his reverie and turned to find Lieutenant Thorn standing behind him with a scowl darkening his features. A pair of guards backed him up, each with stun batons at the ready. They needed him, but didn't trust him. And they wanted him to know it.

"Yeah?"

The lack of military respect annoyed Thorn, but John was unwilling to give him what he didn't deserve. As the commanding officer, Thorn was fully aware of John's unique nature, and the reasons behind it. In other words, he knew how lethal the unknowns on the other side of the Ark could be, how much danger he was leading his men into. But he had failed to prepare them for what they could face. He was failing his responsibilities to his men. His actions could get them all killed.

No officer like that was worth John's respect.

"Listen up Corporal," Thorn sneered, "I don't care how good you think you are, if you even think of crossing me in any way, I swear to God I will put you down myself. Now get in line. It's time."

Spinning on his heel the Lieutenant marched back to his place with his men, a place nowhere near the front. John shook his head in disgust and, ignoring the two guards who continued to shadow him, moved to his designated position at the head of the column.

After all, if you have a near immortal soldier working for you, who else are you going to use as the forward scout?

Stepping up to the now aerial bubble of distortion that was the activated Ark portal, John tightened his grip on his rifle, and took a moment to centre himself. Closing his eyes he inhaled deeply and held the breath for a moment, then released it. Nerves calm, heartbeat slow and steady, and in the back of his mind a whispered 'good luck' from his sister.

Prepared at last, he stepped forward and entered the Ark.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 1**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I know, I know, still no real connection with Buffy – but the characters needed a little development. Next chapter will definitely start showing where I'm going with this. I hope you all can wait that long.

Though I will do my best to get the next chapter up in less time. I am very sorry about the wait.

And, as you might be wanting, action will abound. Enough to push the rating up to 'M', I think.

Till then.

**Punster-Zero**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer :  
**Still not mine. Wish it was. But it's not. My plot though.

**xXx**

**Chapter 2**

**xXx**

As his feet hit the ground on the other side, his rifle was already snapping into place at his shoulder as he swept his surroundings for threats. Seeing none, he cautiously moved deeper into the gloomy chamber, looking for anything out of the ordinary. Something like the bodies of the missing scientists. Nothing was visible. No equipment, no blood, no remains. Whatever happened, didn't happen here.

Looking around he could see very little similarity to the facility he had just left behind, still, there was a feeling of recognition. The walls were stone, though smooth and featureless, and it was slightly smaller than the chamber he had just left. As always, there was only a single entrance to the room, so defending it shouldn't be a problem.

Behind him flashes of light and dull thuds denoted the belated arrival of the rest of his new team. He carefully didn't let his amusement at the gap between his arrival and theirs show; it probably wouldn't be good for morale.

As the chamber slowly filled, John saw the occasional familiar face appear. It had been a shock, the day after his 'recruitment' meeting, when turning up at the platoon's billet he had found a pair of old friends waiting for him. Privates Worth and Harrington had both been training alongside him during basic training. In fact, Worth had almost beaten him out of his slot on the RRTS squad.

Getting past the surprise of finding them there, he'd felt a growing sense of trepidation as they explained that they'd both been transferred from their regular units to this one.

He'd had an uneasy feeling of being manipulated.

It didn't help that he'd caught Thorn smirking in his direction more than once.

The chamber continued to fill as other soldiers passed through the Ark, and he nodded to the few people who'd made good impressions on him while the new platoon was put through its paces.

Private first class Roberts was a mere slip of a girl, with a winning smile and bubbly personality. When he met her he hadn't been very impressed, but after seeing her skills on the firing range he'd changed his tune. She was lethal with a rifle to an extent that not even he could beat her – even with his enhancements.

As for Moss, he was one of those tall, silent types who stayed in the background, but were hell on wheels when you got them mad – or threatened their team-mates. A man who'd walk through hell to defend those around him, who'd lay down his own life in an instant to do what he felt was right.

John was angry. He knew that according to his psych reviews he was slow to create relationships with people, because of the traumatic events of his childhood, but once someone was considered his – he'd move heaven and earth to keep them alive.

Which was undoubtedly what they had been planning all along.

Unwilling to snap at those near him due to his bad temper, he turned and left the chamber to do his job and scout the complex, hoping it would calm him down enough that he wouldn't hurt anyone on his return. The tunnel he found himself in was dark, no natural light to speak of, and the light from his gun barely illuminated anything – but it wasn't needed, not by him, not anymore. His sight had improved to the point that even luminescent moss gave him perfect visibility.

As he glided silently, he felt his hackles start to rise. There was something off, something wrong. Not quite Olduvai, but close. There was a strangeness to the air, it didn't feel right – unconsciously, he flicked the safety off and set the rifle to full-auto.

Whenever he came to an opening, he carefully checked it out, using everything at his disposal. But found nothing. As he progressed deeper, the tension continued to mount, and he kept finding himself needing to slow his heart rate.

As his investigations continued, he slowly came to realise that, unlike the facilities on both Earth and Olduvai where there was space for scores if not hundreds of people, here there was room for a mere handful. In fact, it could be just as easily contain only a single individual. Which considering that one of the few things he remembered from his parents discoveries was that the Ark creators tended to build on a grand scale.

That they didn't do so here, was troubling on some basic level.

Eventually he reached the end of the tunnel, and found himself standing before a mammoth stone door. Staring at it, he was shocked to find his lips pulling back into a silent snarl, adrenaline and endorphins pumping through his system in preparation for battle. According to the abilities he was still mastering, there was something truly terrible behind that door, and his body yearned to fight it.

Stepping back, shaken at the intensity of the feelings being generated, John decided it was time to report in, and slowly moved back to base.

**xXx**

When the brightness of the halogen lights set up around the entrance to the Ark finally came into view, John was at last able to release some of the tension that had tightened his frame. Being careful to identify himself properly, so as not to get shot by nervous guards, he entered the camp proper.

He was immediately inundated by sound. Amazed and horrified in equal parts, he passed through the mayhem that had appeared in his absence. For so little room they had managed to cram a surprising amount of equipment into it. Crates full of weapons were stacked against one wall, while a med-tent was set up on another. Finally seeing the command post, he headed towards it only to be stopped by a large argument going on in his path.

He sighed to himself. It was _those_ two again, and it was unlikely he'd get by till they were finished.

At first glance, Gunnery Sergeant Doakes and the ever humble technician Dexter Morgan would have little in common, being of different professions, and should have had little reason to come into contact. Which did not explain the friction between the two. Somehow, every time they crossed paths, Doakes would find something wrong with the quiet young man, and feel the need to bawl him out in front of as many people as possible.

It wasn't as if the techie was going out of his way to annoy the soldier, if anything he kept to himself too much. John mused that the most likely reason Doakes found him so… aggravating, was that Morgan never reacted to the threats being spewed at him. He'd just stand there, a slight smile gracing his lips, quietly and calmly accepting the screaming sergeant in his face.

Finally, the two seemed to be winding down and John was able to get past, though not without discontented mutterings from the crowd. Everyone knew that at some point the two would come to blows, but most were hoping that Doakes would throw the first punch.

For a hard-assed, mean mouthed, sadistic bastard, oddly enough no-one liked him. And everyone wanted him gone.

Of course, the small pool the various grunts were running on when exactly the fight would occur had nothing to do with it.

Walking through the thinning crowd, he was able to see an impatient looking Thorn glaring at him. Apparently the fool didn't like having to wait for the lower ranks.

Steeling his resolve not to hit the man, John approached. "I scouted as far as I could, I swept all the rooms and found nothing. Apart from the size, the only thing out of the ordinary was a big door at the other side of the complex."

Face reddening at the continued lack of respect, the lieutenant nonetheless ignored it to answer him, "The door's the access point to the second Ark. The scientists should be inside. Did you enter?"

"No, I thought I should return and report in."

Thorn sneered, and in a poisonous tone said, "What's the matter _Corporal_? Scared? You, the big hard super-soldier? I want you to enter that room, search it thoroughly and _then _report back. Clear, Corporal?"

"Perfectly. But I'm going to pick up some extra weaponry, just in case." Turning away before he did something he would not regret, John walked away ignoring the spluttered commands to stop.

The guards at the armoury did consider stopping him, but one look at his face quickly dissuaded them. Reaching the crates, he paused to scan the various barcodes for anything he could use, and a thrill of excitement ran up his spine when he saw it. Slowly, reverently, he opened the crate and gazed down at the HK Gauss Gun. A weapon he had trained on, but never had the chance to take into combat on account of its weight and unwieldiness. Now no longer a problem for him.

It was a difficult weapon to use in combat, since the HE rounds he'd grabbed were area effect in damage, and indiscriminate to friend and foe alike. But then, if this went down the way he thought it would, John figured he'd need all the firepower he could get.

It took a few short minutes to load it fully and strap it to his back, and grab some extra ammunition, but eventually he was done. It was time to move out, but as he neared the exit he noticed someone following him. Turning, he found the platoon sergeant gazing at him.

"You know, he wouldn't give you such a hard time if you were to just show him the proper respect. Call him 'Sir' once in a while, it'd do wonders for his disposition."

"Sorry sir, but respect has to be earned. That… man will never have my respect. It's more than likely almost every soldier here's going to die. This is a FUBAR situation, and he's a major part of it. I'm not going to give him the satisfaction."

A hearty laugh was the response he got from that, as Sergeant Evans let his amusement show. Evans was a study in contrasts - a well built young man with an intelligent mind, who had managed to rise through the ranks relatively quickly. But somehow he had been able to keep his humanity, and the men all liked him. Even John found his affable nature and easy smile infectious.

"While that might be true, I think it would be better if you kept that to yourself. Morale being what it is, it would be unfortunate if the troopers heard."

"Yes sir." To Evans, he would speak with respect. Stepping closer and dropping his voice, he added, "Back in boot, we had a drill sergeant. He was a mean and bitter old bastard, Irish, but he knew how to fight. One time, after an exercise, he told us something. There are two types of officers in this world, killing officers and murdering officers. Killing officers are the kind who'll get you killed by mistake. Murdering officers though, those are mad, bad old buggers that get you killed on purpose – for a country, for a religion, for their own fucking reasons.

"Thorn is a murdering officer. If you care about your men at all, keep an eye on him. You might just need to put him down to save them."

Leaning back, he looked hard into Evans' wide eyes, then turned and began to walk away. Evans next words stopped him cold.

"I know."

John froze. He must have misheard. Blinking rapidly, he slowly turned back to look at the man, "The people who ordered this mission know exactly what they're doing, putting that one in charge. Just as they knew what the were doing bringing in some people you would recognise. People you'd be willing to kill to defend."

A light laugh escaping him at John's shocked expression, he ambled over, no threat in his body language. "They knew they could persuade you to return with the video footage, but they needed a way to make you fight to the… best of your abilities. That's why they brought me in. Consider me your… motivation. Remember, all you have to do is get us in, and get us out. As long as the data is returned, intact this time, everything will be fine.

"We might even leave you and your sister alone afterwards."

The smile, that had seemed so friendly such a short time before, was now akin to a shark before it attacked. "We know what you can do, how dangerous you are now. We know there's nothing we have that can stop you, we could barely slow you down. But your friends…

"Just do your job, John. And you can go home. To your sister. Or you can fuck up, disobey orders, ruin everything for us again, and you get to go home to your sister's… funeral."

Nodding at the shaking marine, his laughing eyes gauging and rejecting John as a threat, he softly added, "Dismissed," and walked away.

**xXx**

Getting past his anger at Evans words had been difficult, but the routine of his work leeched it out of him. Now, back at the end of the tunnel, standing before the behemoth doors, he found it hard to push himself to enter them. But he did, thanks in large part to the words still rattling around in his brain.

And found… nothing.

The room it led to was dark and, apart from him, devoid of life. Which didn't explain the unsettling sensation of being watched. Per the norm, the Ark was centre placed to minimise chances of accidental transport.

His senses suddenly screaming warning, John spun and almost fired at the dark shape that had appeared in the entrance. Luckily he saw the uniform a fraction of a moment before his finger squeezed the trigger, otherwise it was more than likely Thorn would have had him up before the firing squad for killing one of his aides.

The soldier, obviously unaware of how close he came to death, spoke, "The lieutenant got tired of waiting for you, and wanted an update ASAP. So, report already."

Half wishing his reactions weren't quite so good, in that he'd accidentally put a bullet in the insufferable prick's knee, he came to attention and rattled off the new information he had gathered, miniscule as it was. When he was finished, the young man before him nodded distractedly at him and left. Sighing quietly, John caught himself wondering what would have happened if he'd just fought his way out, instead of agreeing to this scheme.

"_Simple, you'd be on the run showing those foolish enough to chase you the error of their ways, and I'd be forced to drop everything to go into hiding. _

"_Not exactly something I'm interested in doing at this instant."_

The amused thought sent from his sister gave him a jolt, which she was obviously aware of since the amusement increased. However, the communiqué had done its work. The dark and morbid thoughts that had begun to swamp him had dissipated, leaving him once more the professional soldier.

Slinging his weapon, he stood by one of the walls with a clear line of sight to the rest of the room as well as the entrance, and went into a kind of standby mode. It was something he had discovered he could do when needing to stay alert, but unwilling to jeopardise his battle-ready status. It allowed him to calm his body and mind in such a way, that it worked as a substitute for sleep in the short-term – it did more harm than good to try to use this on a more long-term basis.

Now all he had to do was wait for the others to arrive.

**xXx**

If he wasn't a near immortal being with a near invulnerable body, John might have been getting a little tired of being constantly placed in the most dangerous position, at point, and done or said something unwise about it. Instead he grabbed his weapons and their ammunition. He made sure though, to pack at least twice as much ammo as the others, going mainly for high explosive and tracer rounds – if this turned out anything like before, he knew he'd need it.

So yet again he was standing before his own personal doorway to hell, waiting for the order that would send him back in.

And then the order was given, and the troops began to move.

A brief flash of sweet pain, as his molecules were atomised and sent to another place, the moment when time seemed to stretch and he could almost feel the sensation of travelling. The odd tingling running along his mental pathways, as the fear bubbling within wondered if he would fail to materialise this time, then another flash of pain and the world returned.

Staggering slightly, he quickly gained his bearings and gave his surroundings a scan. The chamber he found himself in had rocky protuberances jutting from the walls, and a dark hole in one wall denoted a passageway leading… somewhere. But what truly held his attention was what he saw opposite the Ark.

A throne.

There was no other word to describe it. From its location, and the look of great age that hung about it, it was likely it had been there since the Ark was built - if not longer.

The bad feeling that had been growing in his gut blossomed into a full fledged alarm. Spinning on his heel at the first thud of the following men, he saw something that made his blood run cold and the fear of this being a trap crystallised into certainty.

There was no console plugged into the Ark. There was no way to go home.

They were trapped.

**xXx**

He couldn't seem to calm his heart. No matter what he did, his pulse continued to race. The last time John's body had reacted like this he had been about to go hunting for his sister, through a small army of monsters. They weren't alone down here. There was no proof, no hints that anything else was alive in this dusty tomb, but he instinctively knew.

Here be monsters.

A loud crunch behind him made him cringe in anticipation of mayhem, only to relax marginally when nothing attacked out of the darkness. Turning, he choked back the snarl that threatened to emerge, and instead moved to the sheepish looking soldier, and quietly pointed out, "While in enemy territory it's a bad idea to make enough noise to attract… unfriendlies. Keep it quiet, and we might get out of this alive." Reprimand given, he was about to move back to his post, when he violently jinked to the right and spun towards the man who'd tried to grab his arm.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" barked the ever obnoxious Lieutenant Thorn, "Giving my men orders, treating them like that? You're here to cover our backs, to get us out of danger, and to spend your life protecting us if that's necessary. You do not talk to my men like they have anything to do with you. Do what you're ordered and keep your nose clean. Otherwise, I swear you're going home in a body-bag."

By the end, the room was silent with every man listening in to the not so quiet rant their commanding officer had given. If there had been any doubt before, about how the UAC viewed him, it was gone now. He was just cannon-fodder, albeit cannon-fodder that can soak up far more punishment than normal.

Glaring the man in his piggish eyes, John said nothing to reveal his feelings, just turned and marched to the entrance, leaving with a parting shot. "Since you don't seem to care about being quiet, I'm going to make sure nothing heard you. When I come back, maybe you won't all be dead."

**xXx**

Wherever they were, it was beyond massive. He had barely gone a few hundred feet before the passage had opened onto a cavern so large he couldn't see anything – walls, ceilings, even the floor in places, was shrouded in darkness. As he gazed into the shadows, he had the uneasy feeling that they were gazing right back into him. Unable to shake off the dread that chilled him, he turned to go back to the camp, to be halted in shock to see someone standing behind him.

Never mind that his new abilities let him sense anyone approaching and that the stranger hadn't even made a blip on John's internal radar. Or that the person standing there, watching him inquisitively was not one of the soldiers. More, the fact it was a five foot something blonde, looking like she just stepped out of a fashion magazine.

"My, my, I am lucky! To get not one but two groups of guests in such a short period of time, it makes me so happy." As John stiffened, amusement darkened her eyes,

"Maybe you and yours will give me a more enjoyable show. Regrettably, the ones from before, they didn't seem to like my idea of fun, though their screams were exquisite they lasted such a short time.

"I really hope you last longer."

He wasn't even aware of the gunstock slamming into his shoulder or his finger brushing the trigger, but the roar of gunfire shattered the silence as he put a single round into the air next to the psycho girlie's ear.

"You will put your hands up and turn around, if you try anything, I will kill you. Move. Now."

Her smirk never wavered as the gun trained on the centre of her forehead, she continued to speak barely giving the muzzle a glance, let alone his command. "You think to threaten me? You really have no idea who, or what I am… do you? I am evil. I am the darkness within you. I am the voice in your soul that whispers the desire to kill. I am the First Evil, and now, you…"

Her monologue suddenly trailed off as something struck her. Narrowing her eyes to study him more closely, a stormy expression rapidly spread across her features making him nervous. Already uneasy, John felt his heart beat faster as the atmosphere changed, as the air grew heavy with threat, as the person before him grew full with rage.

"Impossible!" Her cry was so furious it actually pushed him back a step, "You are not meant to exist! Your kind are meant to be destroyed, gone! You dare come here, now, just when my plans near fruition? How _dare_ you!"

Feeling like a great pressure was bearing down on him, John began to back away from the enraged blonde, his instincts screaming that something bad was about to happen. As he did so the girl continued to rant, "I will make you suffer the likes of which you have never imagined in your darkest nightmares! Your death cries will echo in my ears for a thousand years, and your soul will be my personal plaything for the rest of eternity.

"Welcome to Hell, bitch!"

Her body rippling like mist in a high wind, her voice turned to a wordless wail as she was sucked into a vortex that appeared in her midriff, and vanished. Staring at the spot where a girl once stood, John was shocked beyond belief. His stillness was shattered as the cavern rumbled. Looking around, searching for the cause, he found nothing. It wasn't until the sound's volume increased that he realised it was being produced by throats.

Thousands of them.

Instantly he was off, trying to get back in time to stop the massacre. Or at least slow it down.

Moving at speeds only attainable when adrenaline was pumping, the wordless roar greatly diminished as the stone walls of the passageway enclosed him, but he wasn't fooled. The creatures… the monsters… making that noise were approaching his position, and it didn't matter that he had far outdistanced them. This was their territory, their land. They didn't need to rush to be able to get ahead of them.

John knew that as well as they did. If the platoon didn't move soon, it would be surrounded – and death would come swiftly. Though many of the soldiers were unknown to him, enough were not that he was unwilling to simply stand by and let them die.

He had to help.

Bursting into the camp he found himself batting away the rifle thrust in his face hard enough to knock the soldier flying to the ground, but ignored him to snap his report. "We have incoming hostiles, more than we can handle. We have to get out of here. Is the Ark working?"

A red-faced Thorn jumped in, "Damn you, don't you know how to act like a real soldier? You're meant to give that information to me only, not blurt it out so everyone can hear it. You're on my last nerve, if you…"

"_Shut up you stupid bastard!"_

Reaper's cry left the lieutenant silent, mouth agape in shock, as well as silencing the already curious whispers that had arisen at his entrance. "Didn't you hear me? They're coming for us, here, now. We can't face them. We have to run. Now, is the Ark operational?"

Seeing as the commanding officer was temporarily out of commission, the tech Dexter answered instead, "No sir, due to the lack of any control system on this side there is simply no way to easily get back. If we had a few weeks we might be able to jury-rig something but… we're not getting out that way sir."

Though dismayed at the reply, John nonetheless carried on, "Fine. Pack up your weapons, ammo and food. Leave the rest. We're heading out in three minutes." Seeing the consternation on the faces before him, he elaborated briefly, "The enemy is already on their way. They know where we are, and they outnumber us. We have to move. _Now_."

For a brief moment the room was still, then it burst into activity with men rushing to and fro to gather supplies. Walking to Thorn's side, John leant in and whispered quietly so as to not let the men hear, "From here on in you do what I tell you. You disobey me once, and I _will_ kill you. This is why I'm here. Deal with it."

Glancing across at the expressionless Evans, John really hoped the other man knew not to push him on this. One way or another they were leaving – if need be, over Evans' bloody corpse.

**xXx**

The line of men trailed through the dank passageways following John. At first, Lieutenant Thorn had blustered a bit at the lack of a definite destination, but after a single hard glare had quickly shut up. They had made good time, getting out of the death-trap the Ark chamber would have proved to be, and had walked several miles at least. Even though much of that was following tunnels that circled round and crossed almost the same territory. Only two things kept the men from grumbling. That the path they were following was leading them ever upwards.

And the ever growing sound of countless feet behind them.

Thorn was starting to push to regain control, and the men were beginning to relax as they moved further away from the source of the threat. Which was why it came as a terrible, and for many terminal, shock as the small cavern they were passing through suddenly erupted as monsters poured out of the shadows and attacked.

The darkness fled at the blaze of gunfire.

Shapes out of nightmare were blown apart as explosive and armour piercing rounds tore through them, and grenades detonated in the enemy ranks. With forty five men firing high-powered automatic weapons at point-blank range, the death toll on the other side was atrocious.

But the enemy numbers were so great that even that much suppression fire only slowed the advance.

Men began to scream as claws and teeth buried themselves in throats and organs. Viscera and entrails flew through the air as men were shredded by creatures that howled their pleasure at causing such pain.

The first to fall were the technicians and their defenders. Though many in number, they were poorly trained with the weapons they had – but even if they had been, it wouldn't have given them much hope. They simply didn't know how to handle facing the sheer number of foes trying to spill their blood.

Reaper could just about make out a frantic Doakes putting round after round into the heads of every shape that neared him, as the techs he was covering tried to guard his back. But their inexperience with the guns, and the bloodthirsty cries that made the chamber ring loud fracturing what little concentration they had, caused them to disappear quickly.

In a blink of an eye, ten men were lost to the horde and the others were beginning to panic at the odds facing them. The battle line began to fragment as small groups of soldiers split off and tried to defend themselves, only to find their fewer numbers made them easy pickings.

As a man, John felt anguish as Worth fell under the swarming hordes, and pain ripped at his heart as meaty jaws fastened themselves to Roberts' slender neck, tearing through cartilage and bone like tissue paper. Harrington was lost in the first rush, swept away without note. Moss, however, he was shocked to see pinned up against a stalagmite, weakly scrabbling at the hulking monstrosity holding him there, as it fastened itself to his throat.

Knowing a friend was going to go through such horror nearly broke John. Knowing how the infection had warped his team, how Sarge had changed, he mourned that Moss would go through that also.

But the man John wasn't in control just then, Reaper was calling the shots. And Reaper knew that the tide of battle was rapidly approaching their total annihilation, that there was only a slim chance to turn it their way.

"_To me! To me! Get your lazy asses over here, now! Move it maggots! Now!"_

Then again, pulling slim chances out of the fire was what he did best.

His cry having the intended effect, the soldiers started working their way to him. Not all of them made it. Two were caught by the swarming monsters and were pulled under, mouths open in screams that were lost in the bedlam. Thorn managed to almost reach Reaper's side when a set of razor-sharp talons hit him with so much force that not only did they tear off the front of his skull, the blow shattered his spine and dropped his corpse like a broken marionette.

When the remains of the platoon, now barely more than a squad, were beside him at the entrance to the tunnel he had been heading for, Reaper put his risky plan into action.

Slinging his rifle, he slammed his hand into what was hopefully the nose of one that was charging him, and heard the satisfying crunch as the bone was rammed into its brain killing it instantly. Grabbing the body, he spun and threw it into the monsters directly in front of him, knocking them to the ground and causing a slight lull as their compatriots tried to keep their suddenly unstable footing.

Giving him just enough time to grab the gauss gun off his back and fire a single round into the ceiling.

**xXx**

The steady dripping of someone's blood from their wounds was all that could be heard in the small antechamber where the survivors were gathered. Six men, including Reaper.

Not much to show for the arrogant force that had crossed dimensions to prove their superiority.

The flight from the falling stone and shaking floor, from the cries of the damned behind them, from the fear of dying like their friends had, had been horrific for all of them. They had lost another man when a stalactite had been shaken loose. He had practically exploded when it landed on him. They followed the twisting tunnel, hoping to not run into more enemies, their scratchy breathing harsh in their ears.

Finally they staggered to a stop and hid in a small cul-de-sac off the path, and at last Lady Luck decided to smile on them. No pounding feet, no demonic cries, nothing. They had gotten away. It was apparent that the tunnel system they were in had only one access way to this area, and Reaper had sealed it – at least for now.

Not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, they rested. They bound their wounds, and checked their ammunition. They made sure weapons were always close at hand. And above all, they kept a sharp ear out for that haunting sound of tramping feet.

Reaper glanced at the others, noting their glazed eyes and the slight shivers besieging them, and knew if they didn't escape soon it wouldn't matter. Every man of them was sporting some horrific wound somewhere on their body, apart from Reaper himself. His healing had taken good care of him during the battle. Though it had been close a few times. He knew he could heal pretty much any injury, but he wasn't so sure what would happen if he was dismembered.

Such morbid thoughts led back down the dark tunnel of depression. Flashes of faces sprang up before him, only to be snatched away in showers of blood. Some he had seen, some he had heard.

He just prayed that all those he'd known had died. He didn't like to even think about having to fight them. As he knew he would, with Moss.

Knowing better than to let himself get distracted by the mission's failure he focussed his mind on rechecking his weapons and stores. He was down to two full mags of normal ammo for the assault rifle. Useful against small groups of foes, but against the numbers they saw before, utterly useless. Armour piercing rounds were far more deadly, since they went through many demons at the same time, causing multiple deaths per shot. Unfortunately, because of that very effectiveness none of them had any left, gone in the fight below.

He had three mags of high-explosive rounds, but was cautious of using them while still underground. The damage they could do to support walls didn't bear thinking about. Then there were the grenades he had taken. Only one more explosive shell, but three phosphorous. Perfect for blinding your enemies – literally, as the blast tended to burn the cornea of any that saw them.

That was it. That was everything he had left. And knowing the numbers facing them, nowhere near enough.

Nothing was ever easy.

Grabbing his stuff, he stood up and motioned for the men to follow suit. It was time to go.

**xXx**

They had obviously moved into a different area entirely. For one thing, the creatures they were now seeing looked nothing like anything Reaper had witnessed before. All were about six feet tall, if standing straight, but they walked hunched over slightly. They had pale, pasty skin, and strange ridged foreheads. And noticeably enlarged canines – almost fangs in appearance. If Reaper didn't know better, he'd call them vampires.

The men had not so subtly hinted that going back and finding another way around was their preferred choice, but Reaper had noticed something they hadn't.

Fresh air.

Coming, specifically, from a small spiral staircase leading upwards that the… things were milling around. The scent was slight, as if a door had been left slightly ajar, but it was there. This was what they had been looking for, a way out.

Now all they had to do was fight their way through another small army of demonic entities to reach it.

Piece of cake.

Giving each man a reassuring nod, and receiving one in return, they hefted their weapons and prepared for one final assault. Live or die, it would end… _now_.

Reaper took point, charging out of the shadows of the tunnel and firing short, controlled burst into the skulls of those enemies nearest. The men quickly followed with their own sporadic shots mingling with his to push the confused creatures back further. It wasn't until one of the head-shot vamps reached up and grabbed one of the men, yanking him off his feet into a waiting set of teeth, that Reaper realised they'd made a mistake.

These things didn't just look like vampires, they were vampires. Meaning none of the ammunition they had would do shit against them. Roughly ejecting the clip, he slammed home one filled with HE rounds. Firing them underground in an unstable cave system might have been risky, but he had no choice. He had nothing else.

Depressing the trigger, he was rewarded as the shells proceeded to blow apart the vampires thronging before them, sending chunks and gobbets of flesh flying, flesh that moments later turned to dust. The soldiers, by now, were whittled down to three as another was swarmed under, his screams only matched in intensity by the fountains of blood arcing up from the heap of vamps covering him. But the survivors had spotted the effectiveness of Reaper's tactics, and were following suit.

In no time at all, the immediate area was clear of threats as four determined soldiers did their jobs. Grins began to blossom, only to wither and die as more vampires surged over a nearby ledge and charged them. Aiming at another enemy, Reaper was horrified to hear the click of an empty magazine, and knew he was all out. There was only one choice left to him. He used one of his phosphorous grenades. The blinding light brought cries of pain from the men behind him, and tears ran freely down his face as his sensitive eyes stared for a moment into a light as bright as the heart of the sun. Then the glare was gone, and through red and weeping eyes Reaper stared stunned at the carnage.

It would appear phosphorous grenades were especially deadly to vampires.

Locking that useful information away for later perusal, Reaper beckoned to the men to follow. Staggering their way across the room, eyes streaming, they reached the stairs and looked up – only to see a rapidly sealing hatch above them.

Despair clawed at him. To come so far, just to fail now. Looking back at the men… his men… Reaper was angered to see all on their knees, defeated. Angry enough to disregard the consequences, he loaded his last HE grenade and fired it into the stairwell. Only to kick himself a fraction of a second later, as the fireball from the blast rushed back down the passage, slamming into him and the men, sending them all flying. Shaking his head to clear the spots and push back the unconsciousness that was threatening to fall, he looked for his men and was sickened to see only one still breathed.

Grabbing the man and hauling his unconscious body to his shoulder, he moved back to the stairs and looked up. And was heartened beyond all belief to see the way was clear.

Clambering up the steps, ignoring the growing sounds of pursuit, he hoisted himself over the rim and rolled the motionless man to the side, then climbed out. Backing away from the dank hole, he turned, only to find himself confronted by a room full of battered and bleeding girls.

None of them could be older than seventeen, but the one that caught his attention, the one that caused his breath to hitch in shock, was the very familiar face of the psycho blonde that he had met in the cavern so far below.

His rifle butt was at his shoulder before he remembered the clip was empty. It was already too late. Disorientated they might have been, unaware they were not. Every girl suddenly had a sword or crossbow pointed at him, apart from her.

She just looked at him, as if he were a specimen in the zoo, and said, "So what the hell are you, and how'd you get that… _thing_ open?"

"I blew it open, we couldn't get out otherwise. And as for me?

"Call me Reaper."

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 2**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I am aware it's taken me a while to put this chapter up, but I had a bit of trouble keeping people in character. As for the chapter's length – the chapter is as long as the chapter needed to be.

This sage piece of advice is entirely thanks to my continuously wonderful Beta, Gyre.

In here were a number of OCs of my own creation, plus a pair of cameos from a highly enjoyable series. Do not expect the cameos to return, they were in more for amusement than anything else. And no, I don't own them either.

I hope you enjoyed this, the latest instalment, and will continue to tune in when the next chappie occurs.

Reviews are not needed to prod my muse to write, but they are always welcome :-P

Ciao for now.

**Punster-Zero**


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer :  
**Not mine. Never will be. Just playing in the sandbox.

**Author's Note :  
**I feel it necessary to apologise to you all for my very tardy delivery of this chapter. All I can give in my defence is that writing the start of this took far more work than it should have, needing to be rewritten repeatedly to get it right, and just as I did – I had a plot bunny from a totally unrelated story pop into my head and give me the full plot and lowdown on the _entire_ storyline. So I had to pause this, to write that.

I hope you can forgive me.

Now, on with the show.

**xXx**

**Chapter 3**

**xXx**

The universe seemed to pause and hold its breath, as an unstoppable force met an immovable one.

Two titans, powerful beyond belief in their respective wars. Champions for Good, fighters – and killers – for the side of right. Meeting, at last, in the heart of darkness.

And each convinced the other was the latest threat to all they held dear. A crux point reached. Would they join forces and bring down the entity that had cased them both so much pain, or would they fight, slugging it out until one or both were dead, and doom two realities into the bargain…

As well as the multitude of higher beings that were watching this new development, were the many mundane mortals who were standing nearby when the grenade had ruptured the seal, allowing the strangers from below to escape.

A small group of potential slayers. Girls that, though not imbued with mystical power, still had abilities far beyond the norm. Girls that, coming here to help seal the Hellmouth, found instead that it was opened completely and utterly, and a blood-drenched fiend from below now held them all at weapon point. Girls that, for all their training, were terrified of what was about to happen, knowing that if they had to fight, they could all die.

It was a pivotal tableau, one that held the fates of many on its outcome. And had the First been able to control her forces, the war would have been won for her, right then and there. Fortunately for those straining to keep her evil at bay, she did not.

The sound of an inhuman scream tore out, as the ground seemed to shake and all eyes were dragged to the pit in the floor. The cries of the damned filled the air, as the terrible foes from beneath came swarming towards their freedom. Both Reaper and the Slayer stood frozen, unsure for a moment on what they should do, but even as the blonde started to move – so did he.

Dropping his weapon, in one fluid movement he reached down and snagged a grenade from his comrade's belt, primed it, and tossed it into the hole. He then grabbed the man and dragged him away from the opening while simultaneously shielding the body with his own. For the others present, he cried four words.

"Fire in the Hole!"

Even a Slayer recognised the warning. With a command filled cry to duck, she dove away followed quickly by her girls, just in time as the grenade exploded with a massive roar. If the ground had not been shaking before, it was now. Dust fell from the ceiling onto the shrieking girls, and the demonic cries from below were blotted out by the sounds of falling rocks. It seemed to go on forever, before quiet returned.

Coughing slightly from the excess rock dust in the air, Reaper squinted his eyes as he studied the hole. To his shock, not only was it still there, it hadn't even been filled with rubble. All he'd managed to do was buy them some time.

Movement beside him made him look up, to find the tip of a razor sharp sword hovering at his throat. Following the length of the blade up to the hilt, he found himself staring into the dark gaze of the blonde.

"I guess you're not… all bad, if you're willing to fight them. But just because you're their enemy, doesn't make you my friend." She was cut off as the cries from below increased once again. Glancing at the pit briefly, she looked back at him, "Can I trust you to not attack us? We need to close that," motioning at his handiwork, "before they get out, and we can't do that if we have to fight you too.

"So can I trust you?"

Reaper didn't say a word, he just studied her. Ignoring the sounds around them, ignoring the shrieks of the damned, he considered his options. Finally, he nodded – albeit slowly.

"I swear I won't attack you or yours until that threat is neutralised, and as long as you and yours don't attack me or my friend. Good enough?"

"Good enough."

A truce reached, he slowly regained his feet, not from weariness but from caution, and carefully picked up the wounded soldier. He felt a slight pang that he didn't even know the man's name, but there'd be time for that later.

Right then there was far more important things to be done.

"Now what?"

"Now… you step outside and let us do our job. Vi, Monica, take these two down the hall a ways, but keep your distance from them." She flashed him a hard grin, "Just to be safe. I'll call when you can come back."

The girls named nodded and quickly ushered the soldiers out into a dank tunnel, followed by a handful others. Reaper could see that all held their hands near their weapons, and he approved at the wariness, though saddened that girls as young as these needed to know it. They only moved about twenty feet from the door, but evidently they thought it was enough, though they continued to shoot nervous glances back.

He was just happy they weren't talking to him, since it allowed him to focus his hearing and try to make out what they were doing behind them. Though the voices were slightly muffled from the dirt walls, Reaper was glad he could still make them out.

"So Wills, can you do it?" He recognised the voice of the blonde.

"Are you kidding me?" The tone was derogatory, the speaker unknown, "You know what this is, what created it. I might be the most powerful witch in the western hemisphere, but even I have limits. This is a hole in the fabric of the universe, and I could pour every ounce of power I have into it and it wouldn't make the slightest bit of difference."

'_Witch?_' He twitched, hearing someone refer to themselves like that, luckily his escort took no notice. He wanted time to consider what he'd heard, but they were still talking.

"So you can't."

"That's not entirely true. There might be… one… way. But you're not going to like it, Buffy."

He twitched again. _Buffy_? Someone actually called their daughter _Buffy_?

"What do you mean?"

"As I said, this is a hole in the universe. It had a door, but it's been blasted open, knocked off its hinges you could say. I might be able to do something, but only if I used the key."

A sudden intake of breath denoted sudden shock on… _Buffy's_ behalf, still unable to get past the innocuous name, but from how the word had been said, Reaper thought that they were talking about something specific.

The blonde's next words confirmed it.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? You think I'm going to let you use…"

"Buffy, wait! I just need a little, as the Key," This time he heard the capital letter, "has the ability to open any door, to any universe, anywhere, it should also work for _creating _a door. And the lock that goes with it. Buffy, we don't have any other options. We need to do this now, before they get up here."

"I just…"

"It's alright." A third voice, also unknown, but sounding younger, "It has to be done, and I'm the only one who can do it. Besides, it's my choice. Willow? Do it."

Straining to hear, he could make out movement, a gasp from the youngster, that a low voice chanting in a strange language. He didn't have time to wonder what they were doing, as the chant reached a peak and he was hit with a shock.

Or a shockwave to be exact.

A blast of power exploded through the walls and swept over them, knocking both him and the girls back a step. For a moment he felt like his nerves were on fire, then it passed. Looking round swiftly, with only a slight widening of his eyes to show his alarm, he found his escort to be equally shaken up. Conversely though, they seemed far more relaxed, the tension pervading their bodies having dissipated for some reason. He also noticed that, despite the force of the wave, the walls surrounding them held no signs of damage, as if it never happened.

All in all, many questions were brought up, more than he could crack on his own. It was at times like these that he needed…

He froze.

Sam.

Since stepping through the Ark he hadn't spoken to her once, hadn't even caught surface thoughts. Feeling a great emptiness swell up, he closed his eyes and focussed hard, straining himself, calling out for his sister increasingly urgently, but hearing no reply. Panicking for the first time since the shit hit the fan, he even lost notice of his surroundings.

Which is why it was such a shock when a hand suddenly gripped his arm and yanked him around.

Unfortunately, he'd been trained so that certain responses were instinctual.

Instantly, in a blindingly fast display, he grabbed the offending limb and removed it, while thrusting his other arm's elbow backwards and slightly up, designed to catch the attacker in their diaphragm. If the blow had landed, the one who grabbed him would have surely died, from the massive shock and damage his overpowered hit would have caused.

Luckily it was blocked by someone moving even faster.

They stood there, facing each other, the people around them only now reacting to the near death in their midst, the redhead pale-faced from what almost happened to her as she nursed an aching hand, yet both Reaper and Buffy had no interest in anything other than each other. Their gazes were locked, and both were tense, muscles trembling in anticipation.

Until they were broken apart by a short yet highly beautiful brunette, with long brown hair, who stood between the two of them glowering at both.

"If you don't mind, we do have other things to worry about, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't start a war right here." Turning to the blonde she stated, "I saw what happened. He was lost in thought, and Willow startled him. I've seen you react the same way when someone did the same to you. As for you," turning her fierce gaze on him, "Willow didn't mean anything by it, grabbing you like that, and you should apologise for almost taking her head off for it. Now," addressing them both, "I believe something was said about a truce? You two are meant to be adults. Start acting like some."

John was impressed. It had been a long time since someone had dressed him down so thoroughly, yet this mere slip of a girl did it with ease. Definitely someone with hidden depths. Beside him, Buffy had dropped her shoulders slightly and had lost the tension suffusing her, sounding calm when she spoke.

"You're right, Dawn. I'm sorry for overreacting, but I saw where he was aiming. The kind of damage that blow would have caused if it had landed… I couldn't let it happen. Sorry." This last was said to him, but he could see she was still wary of him, having felt his strength.

He just gave her a slight nod, before turning to the still pale redhead and saying, "Like she said, I'm sorry for how I reacted. You caught me by surprise, and my instincts took over. If I'd been thinking clearly it wouldn't have happened. Sorry."

The girl just shook her head and smiled at him. "It's fine, I should have known better than to touch someone like you when he was thinking so hard. But…" Here she paused, looking a little unsure, yet strove on, "The reason I did, touch you I mean, was because of what you were doing. I was just surprised when I felt your magic."

John flinched slightly, shocked at the word. He cursed his reaction though, when those around him stiffened in response, seeing the sudden rearing of a new threat.

"Sorry, but that's impossible. Magic's not real."

Again he saw he'd said something to put their ire up.

"You're lying." The girl, Willow, said, in a quiet yet determined tone. "I felt it, just then, when you were trying to speak to someone else with your mind. I kinda know what I'm talking about here."

"You _felt_ that?" John was astonished. Not even the UAC had caught wind of that ability, and they'd been observing the siblings for months. "_How_? We've never met anyone who knew about the link."

"Link?"

"Yeah," Came his reply, unsure of the confusion he was receiving, "with my twin. We're able to talk mind to mind, over any distance. I…" His worry suddenly returned as his mind centred back in to the problem, "I haven't spoken with her since I got here, so I tried to. I can't reach her. It's… it's like…" He trailed off, embarrassed that he'd opened up so much to a complete stranger – even if she was hot. He knew that Sam would have a field day with this, mercilessly teasing him about the big, hard soldier going soft.

The humour was sucked clean out of him at the possibility that he might never hear her voice again.

"Umm… I might be able to help."

Again he found himself surprised. "What? _How_?"

The redhead shrugged deprecatingly, "I'm a witch, and a strong one at that. Maybe… I can give you a boost, enough to make the connection?"

Stunned, he stared at her mouth agape. A split second later he was standing in front of her, making her 'eep' at his speed. "Please, can you do it now? I… She'll be very worried about me, and… I need to know she's alright."

"Sure, now is fine. But I should warn you, to boost you like this I'm going to need to be very close to you to link with you properly. Is that okay?" She answered, still unnerved by him, but more than willing to do try.

No need for him to know that once she connected to him, she'd be aware of anything he and this 'twin' said to one another in the link, and be able to relay it back to Buffy. Just because they had a truce, didn't mean he was clear of suspicion.

He did after all come _out_ of the Hellmouth.

Stepping behind him, she placed her hands on his temples and closed her eyes, willing her power to flow into him, focussing on firming the link inside his minds. For a time she seemed to float in a grey nothingness, until eventually she found two thought patterns around her. Concentrating, she could hear what was being said.

"_Sam… Sam are you there?"_

"_JOHN! You're alive! Oh god, I've been so worried! What happened? Did something go wrong?" The concern in her mental voice, as well as the joy at the knowledge that he still lived was obvious to John, and by extension Willow as well._

"_It's okay Sam, I'm okay. I've been too busy to contact you, and only now found the strength. As for the mission… it was bad Sam, it was very bad."_

"_Oh god John, I'm sorry. What… what happened?"_

"_Exactly what I thought would happen. They… oh Christ, Sam, they're all dead!" The grief was apparent, brutally so, but he wasn't finished, "The Brass knew, they _knew_ what they were sending the troops into, and they didn't care. They just wanted their scientific data. Sam, some of the people they sent with us… I knew them, from before. Because of those fuckers, they're all dead, or worse than dead. Oh god Sam, it…"_

_He broke off, unable to continue, the memories swelling up and overwhelming him._

_What he did not realise, and couldn't have stopped even if he had, was that with the mental link Sam saw it all. _

_Everything._

_The Lieutenant's dislike of him, the Sergeant's not so veiled threats, the friends he had met, old and new. And the deaths. The battle. The sights and sounds of men being ripped apart by nightmarish monsters, the screams of the dying, the shrieks of the few unlucky ones to be… compatible. The terrible trek through the darkness, the loss of the survivors to the fanged creatures at the end. All of it. Sam saw everything._

_And by extension, so did Willow._

John was shocked when the connection was suddenly, violently, severed. Staggering from the backlash, he turned to ask Willow why she stopped, but froze on seeing her condition.

She was kneeling near the wall, bent over, the ground covered with the contents of her stomach. Her hands were shaking and her skin was pasty white, while tears ran freely down her face. Buffy was at her side, rubbing her back and murmuring soft words to her, all the while glaring at John. As were, he realised, all the other girls around him.

Girls who were still armed with _very _sharp weapons.

John did the only wise thing. He held his tongue and stood completely still, waiting for the storm to break. A few anguish filled minutes later, it did.

Finally over whatever fit she'd had, Willow slowly regained her feet, leaning against her friend for support as she stared at John. He felt suddenly naked, as there was something about her gaze that seemed to see right into his very soul.

"Willow, what happened? Did he attack you in there? Does he need to be dealt with?"

The tension increased, weapons rose as their wielders prepared to deal death to the man who had caused such sorrow.

"No…" Her voice, though light and breathy from pain, was clear, "It's not his fault, he… he's a good man."

"Willow…"

"No, let me finish. He didn't do anything to me, he just…" She swallowed, convulsively, as what little colour she'd regained drained from her, leaving her looking like a corpse, "John, I need to apologise. I left out something about the link I formed with you. While it allowed me to lend you my strength, it also let me listen in on what you said."

Here he stiffened, wanting to feel outrage at such an underhanded tactic, but well aware he would've done the same in their roles had been reversed. "But when you… when you showed her the memory, of what happened to you, I…"

She broke off again, her eyes slamming shut as she frantically swallowed, trying to not throw up again. But John had heard enough.

"You _saw _that?" His cry came out harsh, but his expression was not anger, "Oh sweet Jesus! I never… I never intended for you, for Sam, to see… It just… as I described it, it all came back to me. I'm… oh god, I'm so sorry."

Stepping forward he made to put his arms around her, to comfort her, but stopped at movement of sharp and pointy objects. She however, did not, and folded quietly into his embrace, sobbing into his chest.

"All those people, all those men, dead… _slaughtered_… just because your military thought they could use _monsters_ as… Why?!" Her cry was heartfelt, filled with the pain of those disabused of innocence, yearning for an answer that made sense. Alas, he couldn't give her that.

"It's worse than you think. It wasn't the army, it was a company. The UAC to be precise. They have no problem with experiments using humans as test subjects, as long as they get the desired results. They… they're the worst of us."

He knew he hadn't truly helped her, but her tears lessened and her sobs faded. After a few minutes with the others looking on in bewilderment, she finally pulled away, scrubbing at her face embarrassedly. She tried to avoid his gaze, but he captured her chin and forced her to look at him.

"I'm truly sorry you had to see that, and wish you hadn't. Just know that if you need to talk, I'm here for you. Having lived through that, I might be the most qualified to help."

She flushed slightly, but nodded. Releasing her he stepped back, and turned his attention to the quietly seething blonde standing nearby.

"Though I bet you've got some questions for me."

"One or two. What the hell just happened? What did you _do_ to her?"

"I… did nothing. She accidentally saw my memory of what I went through. It was… it was pretty bad." He said, unconsciously repeating what he'd told Sam. Truthfully, he knew the blonde wanted to know details, but he was profoundly unwilling to go over it again just to assuage her curiosity. He knew he would have to at some point, but not just then.

But he did have one other thing to say.

"Uh, Willow, I need to add something. I… understand why you did what you did, and no apologies are needed, because you've given me something far better.

"I now know the link still exists.

"For that, I thank you. Knowing that I can still speak with my sister, even here, means more than you can imagine. Thank you."

He inclined his head briefly, and she gave an answering nod. She even gave him a smile, as she added, "Maybe a little later I can give you a hand with setting up another link with her, I'm feeling kinda bad for spying on you like that. Besides, she sounded… nice."

Relief that the crisis was over, he remembered something that made him wonder if he'd hit his head, since losing track of sensitive tactical information tended to get people killed. Spinning abruptly, he pinned the blonde with a steely gaze. "What about the hole? Did you manage to close it? Are we safe?"

She barely twitched at his demand, simply cocked her head back the way she'd come. "See for yourself."

Moving swiftly past the oddly composed young woman with only a slight degree of trepidation, he warily re-entered the room, only to stop dead in shock at what he beheld. Dimly, he could make out the malformed faces of the things within the hole, but only just… since the hole itself was covered in a strange and eldritch dome of glowing energy, its green light casting odd reflections on the walls.

Absently he heard the girl step into the room behind him, but he couldn't drag his eyes away from the incomprehensible sight.

"Don't worry, we've got it covered."

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 3**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

To be completely honest, this was not where I had intended to end this, but when it appeared it felt write (Argh, sorry, bad pun).

I know it doesn't clear everything up, but a few questions answered and a fixing of a few slight – minor – plot holes (Like an open Hellmouth).

Ah well, if it didn't work, the reviews will let me know.

You might also notice I've posted chapter 1 of another story – that's the one that yanked me away from this one. I tell you, since you know where to direct the hate :-P

Until next time.

**Punster-Zero  
**

**Author's Note (Revised 30/10/09) :**

I have changed the end of this chapter slightly to make it flow more cleanly with what comes after, so if people are wondering where the joke in bad taste went… there you go.


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer :  
**Not mine. Never will be. Just playing in the sandbox.

**Author's Note :  
**Be aware that any changes to canon are through deliberate effort, and not mistakes, like Dawn being present and Andrew absent. It will all be explained as time progresses.

Hope you enjoy.

**xXx**

**Chapter 4**

**xXx**

Walking down the earthen tunnel with his comrade slung across his shoulders, still surrounded by the strange girls, John couldn't help but shoot the occasional glance at the blonde keeping pace beside him. Ever since his near fatal attack against the redhead, she'd been highly wary of him. Though the air of tension had greatly abated, and the girls all acted like nothing was wrong, she never lost her hunter's prowl, always ready to attack him should he do something… threatening. While the others might joke and tease, she did not. Her eyes… her eyes stayed dark, with mistrust.

John couldn't blame her though, since he felt the same way.

Ever since being injected with the virus, Sam had insisted that he learn as much as possible about his limits, not that he'd disagreed. It had taken a crushed car door to tell him that until he got a handle on his new abilities, he was a danger to all around him… especially Sam. He'd already known that his strength had been boosted, but it took some time to find by how much, and even longer to learn how to moderate the level of power behind his movements. Also important was his enhanced healing ability, which meant that even when he overreached himself any skin or muscle damage he caused himself was repaired almost before he noticed it happen.

Along with those improvements, he'd discovered a marked increase in his agility that gave rise to other problems. While his ability to dodge incoming attacks had become almost preternatural, he found that changing an attack mid-swing was almost impossible unless there was little to no force behind it. If he put any level of strength into the strike he wouldn't be able to change its direction until it had gone its course.

It had worried him, but Sam had calmed those worries. The fact that there was nobody else on the face of the planet with reflexes coming close to his made it a moot point.

The truth of his complacency struck him squarely when a mere slip of a girl, barely reaching his shoulder in height, had blurred into motion and stopped his punch cold, not even rocking from the force…

John swallowed. If there was even a chance that the virus had made it here…

Yet, on the other hand, while both possible outcomes of the virus were horribly familiar to him, he was well aware that it wouldn't explain that strange glowing dome that they'd covered the cave's mouth with. In fact, the technology didn't exist that could replicate such an occurrence, not even the beings that built the Ark network had done so; there were enough remnants left on airless worlds to confirm that. But these youngsters, clearly unconnected to their government by their attitudes and actions, shrugged it off like it was an everyday happenstance.

All he'd managed to glean was that they'd used a power source referred to as 'the Key', and that it was connected to the girl with long hair that they'd been so paranoid at letting him near.

Who just so happened to be related to the girl who's strength matched his own.

Speaking of which…

"So," a single word spoken, yet the tension skyrocketed, "where are you taking us?"

"Upstairs." The answer was terse and to the point, but gave him nothing.

He nodded calmly, then gestured at the limp body across his shoulder. "And what about him? Are you going to just let him die?"

The glare his insinuation elicited from the blonde almost had him flinching from its intensity, as well as the mutterings of the girls on either side of him, but he had to know. It was important to understand the kind of people who had him, if only to make planning his eventual escape easier.

"We have people trained in first aid, they'll be taking care of him." The coldness of her tone told volumes of how she felt towards him, but he was reassured… slightly.

"And myself?"

The coldness of her gaze remained, but something else entered it.

"You… get to use the showers to get yourself clean." He blinked, that being the last thing he expected to hear, and a smirk quirked her lips, "You're not exactly… fit for civilised society, not with what you're wearing." Her eyes dropped to flick over him, and he found his own following them down…

Only to swallow as he realised the sheer level of blood and gore that clung to his clothing. He thought he could even make out some brain matter caught in his vest, and for an instant he remembered the sight and feel of running through what used to be a fellow soldier. Shuddering at the image, suddenly feeling dirty, he nodded at her in understanding.

Just then he could understand some of the horrified looks he'd been getting. He himself felt his skin shrink at the thought of what… who… he was wearing.

The thought of cleaning up suddenly became much more attractive.

**xXx**

Coming out of the earthen tunnel had been quite a shock.

With the number of pipes and side annexes he'd seen in their trek through the darkness, he'd thought they were deep under a bunker of some kind; instead he found himself in a pleasant and, by appearance at least, normal high school. Which raised far more questions than it answered, for why would just a dangerous opening be placed under a school, and why would it be defended by a group of young _girls_ of all things?

Questions indeed, yet he knew now wasn't the time to ask, now was the time to shut up and pay attention.

As they walked, a number of them peeled off, the 'Key' girl among them, taking the injured soldier with them. Only the promise of the blonde, Buffy, and the look in her eyes when she gave it let him separate them. For some reason he trusted her.

He just hoped it wasn't a mistake.

A few minutes more of classrooms and corridors, and finally he was led into a locker room. He had to stand and wait while they checked it was secure, then Buffy had nodded to him and, to his everlasting surprise, his guard stepped back, giving him a moments privacy.

Slowly he stripped, his thoughts churning. While a prisoner, they were giving him unheard-of freedoms, not to mention more trust than he would have done under the same circumstances. They weren't treating him like… he paused, a slight smirk rising to the surface as he completed the thought. They weren't treating him like the UAC would've under the same circumstances, nor did they seem overly concerned about his uniqueness. It was… different.

His attention was brought back to the here and now when his fingers came in contact with the disgusting matter that clung to his flak jacket, and with a slight grimace he tossed it aside. While it might be salvageable, just then the memories were too fresh. The same could be said of the trousers, unfortunately he didn't have the same luxury with them and tossed them into the showers, hoping to give them at least a rinse. Only his t-shirt was untouched, and only because it had been covered by so many other layers.

He could swear he heard Sam chuckle as the dread of the upcoming shopping trip rolled through him.

Shaking it off, he walked naked into the shower block and stepped beneath the nearest stream of water, only barely stopping the groan of pleasure at the warmth.

So enraptured by the blessed sensations, he didn't even tense at the squeak of his follower's shoe on the wet tiles. Nor did he make any move to counter the inquisitive eyes judging him. For now.

**xXx**

The sounds of agony, muffled in the corridor, rose in volume dramatically as she pushed the library doors open, and for a moment she dispassionately flicked her eyes over the thrashing body on the table and the number of her fellows being forced to hold him down while Dawn tried to bind his wounds. Even as she watched, his spine arched badly enough even she heard the cartilage creak in protest, then his body slumped bonelessly to the surface. The movements around him intensified, but she knew as well as they that it was no good.

They were all well acquainted with death by now, and what was occurring was simply a salve to their consciences. He was already gone.

Turning from the scene, she headed into the nearby office and finally came to a halt as their leader looked up, eyes hard.

"So?" Buffy asked, tone harsh, "Is he human?"

"I think so," she answered, tone emotionless, "at least, as far as I could see. No overt signs of demonic race, no horns, scales or otherwise."

"Rhona." The Potential brought her head up defiantly at the rebuke. "What is it?"

"He's quite handsome. Naked he looks better than most underwear models."

A raised eyebrow.

"And that's a problem… why?"

Despite herself, Rhona could feel her cheeks heating. "Because we're surrounded by hormonal teenage girls, and I'm not convinced he's not a threat. What better way to trick us into lowering our guard than to… package it in pleasant looks."

The hard gaze being sent at her softened slightly, as a tinge of pity mixed in. Of all people Buffy could understand Rhona's reticence.

"So, what of his friend?" Rhona's question quickly led them away from painful subjects, and Buffy let her.

"Willow ran a number of scans, as well as taking some blood for analysis. From everything she could find he is… was, almost completely human."

"Almost?" she pounced on the word like a hungry wolf.

"Yes. Willow said there are a few things wrong with his blood and DNA markers that differ from our own, but not enough to be counted as wrong."

"So…"

Buffy trailed off, running the facts through her head in silence, mulling over the choices. Finally she lifted her gaze to Rhona once more, no give in her eyes.

"We give him the benefit of the doubt, at least for the time being."

A shallow nod from the dark-skinned girl, message received.

"Besides, there are more important questions. How exactly a group of military soldiers got past us and into the Hellmouth. And why."

"So it's confirmed then?"

A sombre nod. "Xander went over the weapons we confiscated, as well as 'his' uniform. There's no doubt."

Rhona shivered. While the fiasco that had been the Initiative predated her by more than a few years, she'd heard enough of what had happened from Xander and Giles and the few other survivors of the horror to not wish a second recurrence. Especially not now.

"However, there are a few inconsistencies. While both of them were able to identify the handguns, the rifle is another story. Xander has never heard of anything like it, and we're still waiting to hear back from Riley, but from the little he said he's unfamiliar with the design as well."

"So what does that mean?"

For a moment she received no reply, as Buffy gazed blankly into the distance, then her leader's eyes focussed on her once more.

"It means that my orders stand."

Nodding her acquiescence, Rhona left, heading back to where she'd left her charge.

She didn't even glance at the sheet-covered body as she left.

**xXx**

The feel of the wet t-shirt on his skin was comforting after the heat of the chase and, although the trousers chafed slightly, he felt better for having rinsed them. He hadn't realised how much of a burden it had been to carry the remnants of so many on his body, figuratively and literally.

His knowledge of being watched was confirmed as, barely a few paces from the locker where he'd left the ruined jacket, he was confronted.

"She'd like to see you now you're ready."

Not mistaking it for a request, he simply fell into step behind her, ignoring the others who walked quietly at his back. Indeed, he was looking forward to this meeting. Not least because of the guilt over the man he'd left in their care. He just hoped they weren't going to try to do something stupid – he really didn't want to kill them, not if he didn't have to.

A low hum of voices from up ahead told John that soon his questions would be answered. He strained to make out the words, hoping to glean some intel before they knew he could hear them, but the thickness of the walls muffled sounds just enough to make that impossible. Yet he couldn't help but notice the talking ended long before it should've, denoting that at least one person in that room had hearing as acute as his… another mark against the possibility that _it_ was here.

A moment later found him led through a double set of swinging doors, where his eyes were instantly drawn to the one called Buffy, standing near the centre of the large room surrounded by people. A group which also included a pair of men, the first he'd seen since arriving. Yet although his attention was focussed on her, he remained aware of the girl who'd led him there, standing at his back, tense and ready to strike. He couldn't help but approve of their caution, though he doubted it would do much good if he _did_ need to leave in a hurry.

His concentration was diverted however, when he realised that there was somebody missing. Eyes narrowing and body tensing, he glared at the blonde.

"Where is he?"

He felt as much as saw the others in the room stiffen at his tone, yet his target never did. Instead her hard gaze… softened.

"I'm sorry, your friend died. His wounds were just too severe and nothing we did helped. You have my condolences."

For an instant he felt rage flush his cheeks, had the desire to attack, to rend, maim, kill… then it passed and he relaxed. It wasn't their fault. The battle had been terrible and it had been a miracle that any of them had survived at all. But it did mean he was more than cut off now.

He was alone.

"His body?"

"We… have an arrangement with a nearby cemetery, he's being buried as we speak."

He blinked at that. Why would…? But then his mind caught up with the signals he'd been picking up, and he understood. These girls had the look of veterans about them. Of people who'd seen death on a daily basis. Who'd lost friends and loved ones. And considering the creatures they'd been forced to fight through just below the entrance, maybe their paranoia was justified. Yet it didn't change the fact that he'd apparently walked into a war zone, one just as bad as when the infected had claimed the base.

"Thank you." He nodded sombrely at her, "If possible I would like to pay my respects at some point."

A quick bob of her head in acknowledgement, and he breathed easier. Not just because of the obvious, but also the implication that he'd be walking out of here.

"I'm sorry, but I have some questions of my own now."

He could feel his lips trying to quirk, but held it back, just sliding into parade rest to signify his acceptance. Not missing the looks that the two men in the back exchanged at his stance.

"I have two questions for you…" at his raised eyebrow she amended that statement, "well, two urgent ones. Why were you and your men inside the Hellmouth and how did you get there?"

"Why is simple. We were exploring, looking for a team of scientists that had gone missing. We weren't expecting…" he paused, deciding to change the wording, "We didn't expect so many. We came under-prepared."

A few muttered curses from the group had him hesitate, as did the dark looks of disdain. But he carried on, hoping for an explanation afterwards.

"How… is not so easy. We…"

He was interrupted again, but this time fortuitously.

"Oh crap, sorry Buffy." The redhead from the tunnel pushed through the crowd and stepped into the limelight, reddening as all eyes turned to her. "I was so overtaken by… by what I saw in his mind I didn't even think. He's.. they're…"

John couldn't stop the grin this time as she floundered, understanding and sympathising with her; explaining how they'd used ancient alien technology to open a doorway from another universe to get here, wasn't exactly…

"They used a machine built millennia ago by aliens to open a doorway from their universe to ours, and came through."

… or maybe it was.

Everyone was staring at the redhead, Willow, in shock, John included. He couldn't believe she'd simply _said_ it.

"A world without shrimp?" a voice piped up.

His head snapped around and he found himself staring in disbelief at Buffy's little sister, only for his head to swivel back at the reply.

"No, and yes, to what you're asking."

His mouth ajar he could but watch as the light of understanding filled Buffy's eyes. Understanding that quickly morphed into amusement as her gaze slid back to him. Chuckles quickly filled the air as more eyes turned to him, and his reaction was found humorous. Buffy stepped forward slightly and dropped her voice, though it was still loud enough to be heard by all.

"Believe it or not, but you're not the first inter-dimensional traveller we've met. You're just not like the others."

Bringing himself back under control he tried to restore his equilibrium, aided by an anonymous small voice that added 'so far.'

Yet the humour of the moment faded quickly as the reality of the situation sank back in.

"In that case," Buffy said, calmly, "I can't blame you for your actions, although I wish you had found another way."

He inclined his head in apology. "I'm sorry for destroying that hatch like I did, but I was out of time and choices. It was…"

"As I said, I can't blame you. However, you've made things a lot worse for all of us. Before, we had been holding our own but with the inclusion of the enemy's forces from within the Hellmouth, we're going to be heavily outnumbered. Too heavily outnumbered."

Briefly the running battle flashed through his mind, and he nodded. By trying to survive, he might've just turned the tide of their battle… in the enemy's favour.

"Wait." Something mentioned before caught his mind, and he asked, "What's a Hellmouth?"

"Ah…"

Buffy stared at him, her expression inscrutable, before turning and staring just as hard at Willow. A moment later and the redhead was shaking her head negatively, which brought a sigh of irritation from the blonde. Only then did she turn back to him.

"What do you know about Magic?"

Her non sequitur caught him off-guard, and it took a second to come up with the simple reply. "It's a myth, something people dreamt up when they still believed in gods and demons."

She smiled, yet there was no humour in it.

"Not here it isn't."

He stared at her, wondering if she was joking, hoping she was joking, but the seriousness in the air and the looks from those around him told him otherwise.

"Here Magic is real, as are those gods and demons you mentioned. Specifically, we're talking vampires."

"Vampires?" The word was said more harshly than he intended, but he couldn't help it. This was preposterous.

Again that smile.

"While demons do exist, and many are as evil as it's possible to be, they aren't numerous enough to be considered a real threat. Vampires however, are something else. Our enemy has legions of them under her.. _its_," he caught the boiling pit of rage behind her words as she stumbled over the pronoun, "control, and thousands more within the Hellmouth. Which is the problem."

He had a very bad feeling about this now. The tale was picked up, but not by Buffy, and his gaze slid to Willow as she spoke.

"You see, the Hellmouth was carefully sealed using the most powerful of magicks, aeons ago. Magicks that required a very unique key to open them. Unfortunately some of her minions on this side managed to get it open, and we were in the process of sealing it again when you…"

"Fucked everything up."

"Yeah." Said Buffy with a tired sigh. "That green dome you saw? It's the most powerful shield we can create, but it's only going to last a few weeks at best. Before we had months maybe, before we had to worry about what lies below. Now…"

She shrugged, and he finally grasped what he'd done.

"You seem to be taking all of this quite calmly," he said, quietly.

A bark of laughter. "With everything I've seen and been through, there's one thing I've learned. Panicking never solved anything. Besides," Buffy's grin morphed into something feral, "we're not dead yet. We've pulled this kind of thing out of the fire before, and there's a chance we'll do it again."

Just like that, the forlorn atmosphere that had blanketed the room was gone, banished by her ferocious attitude, and he could _see_ the girls, her army, take heart from her words. A distant part of him couldn't help but shake in laughter, as he stepped forward, and he swore he could feel Sam's exasperation as he spoke.

"So what can I do to help?"

**xXx**

Groaning and shaking in pain, he stumbled onwards, ever onwards. He didn't know where he was or why he was there, all he knew was that something was calling him, drawing him, and he had to follow the command. He never noticed the blood that dripped from his fingers from the morticians he'd ripped apart, nor the blood that leaked from the bite on his neck.

All that mattered was getting to his master.

Moments later his body was swallowed by the darkness, and the night fell still once more.

**xXx**

**End of Chapter 4**

**xXx**

**Author's Note :**

I don't know what to say. I'm terribly sorry how this story seemed to fall short, how it stopped and was seemingly abandoned. It was never my intention. It simply happened. I was completely unaware of how long it had been since my last update, and I can but reiterate how sorry I am that you all had to wait for this.

I feel I should point out that this story is going to be highly AU, with things being far darker than they were in the series… if only because John would wipe the floor with canon-based enemies.

Again, my apologies. I know they don't really matter, that the story is what counts, but they are all I can offer.

Until next time.

**Punster-Zero**


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